


i am flesh and i am bone

by iregretallmydecisions



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Amnesia, BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Wilbur Soot, Bad Parent Philza, Bad Parent Wilbur Soot, Based on Characters, Character Study, Deity Philza, Deity Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Deity TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Deity Wilbur Soot, Gen, Good Friend TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Good Older Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Good Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Good Parent Philza, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No Romance, Not real people, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, listen the tags will make sense later, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iregretallmydecisions/pseuds/iregretallmydecisions
Summary: The gods do not exist any longer- according to some, they never did.They vanished thousands of years ago, drawing away from humanity until they faded into non-existence, only traces of their power living on in the earth, in the admins who control the servers.The Universe, however, knows better. The Universe has not given up. It is simply waiting for them to return home.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 168





	i am flesh and i am bone

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my other wip, but this idea would not shut up, so validate it, please. 
> 
> This first part is sooo lore-heavy sorry if it is unclear and weird. the second part will be the actual action and plot, but I can't promise when I'll write it after the next chapter of my other book.

The first god was the god of creation. He was forged in the explosion that kickstarted his universe, born at the same time as the world that was innately  _ his _ . His first breath drew in dark matter and exhaled life, spilling it out into the world. Land and seas formed on his first whisper fueled by the fire and flames that had born them both. 

His hands were built for creation and the universe had given him dark wings so that he could survey what he made. He had little else, but he had his hands and his power and the need to create- to give life. and he spent the next millennia simply creating. He pulled mountains from the deep seas, cut ravines deep down into the rock. He stretched flatlands out over huge swaths of land, backing them up against deserts where sand danced in the wind under his wings. 

He cut under the world and created the nether, a harsh place, yet still beautiful. He sometimes found the still formless places and just breathed, letting life form at the touch of his breath, watching creation take shape under his hands. 

He created plants and trees, spreading grass across the plains, planting cacti in the desert, and spreading colorful things called flowers across meadows and plains. He named some of the things, like the mountains that rose high into the clouds, and the warm liquid he called lava, but oftentimes he simply had to listen and the universe would simply whisper the name of his creations in his ear, on the wind or in the sunshine. The universe named him too. It called him ʌ̵̫͙ı̷̠̰̳̋ʌ̶͉̗̊̚͝ͅı̴̨̡̳̆̇̚ɟ̸̱͎͕͗ı̶̰͔̔ɔ̵̠̟̞̆̿ɐ̵̣̻̿ù̵̠̮̇͛ʇ̸̰͎̏͗͌ǝ̶̜̯͖̈́̊ɯ̸̻̜̓͊.

  
  


Of course, there was something beautiful about what his world could create on its own, once he had begun the process. The first time he saw a new flower, one that had not sprung into existence at his hand, he flew high into the sky, shouting his joy. His creation was alive- it was creating itself- it was growing. New animals came from the ones that he created, mountains rose on their own, and he could feel the heartbeat of his world beneath him, as it grew with every rise and fall of his chest. 

It was wonderful, but the joy was...tainted.. heavy. He did not understand why, there was an ache in his chest. He was a god- he did not feel pain. His creation was flourishing, expanding. He had the wind, and the seas, and the stars in the sky. Why was he not happy? It was almost like the sadness he experienced when one of his creations died, or the anger he felt when he failed, but it was different still. He did not have a word for it. 

_ Loneliness _ , the universe whispered to him,  _ You are lonely _ .

Lonely. He did not understand it, but it was nice, at least to have a name for the feeling in his chest. He kept creating. He created birds to fly on the wind with him, though they could never fly quite so high or quite so fast, and would fall away after only a few beats of his shimmering black wings. He created and created until he was satisfied. He built massive structures to simply tear them down because he could. He allowed the universe to paint sunsets across the sky, waiting for them from the tops of his mountains, and they were beautiful. But still, he was missing something. 

_ Companionship _ , the Universe whispered  _ Someone to enjoy your creation _ . 

He did not quite know what a companion was, but he was the god of Creation. He would Create one. 

He created many, many things in pursuit of a companion. He created horses and wolves, ghasts, and villagers. He created and created and yet, nothing stuck. He had still not created companionship. 

The universe considered these attempts. The universe considered the loneliness of their creator. The Universe found it unacceptable. 

Gods rarely spilled blood, but on a rare occasion when golden ichor dripped from their Creator’s hands, the universe gave a push of its own and from the bloody ground, sprang forth life. 

Their god knew, from the moment the two forms appeared, that these were companions. Two tiny bodies, so unlike the one he was born into, laid on the ground, where his blood had spilt onto the earth. He had not created them on purpose. He had not created them alone. He cradled them in his arms, one in each and he could feel the universe’s breath in their bodies, mixed with his own. 

_ Companions _ . The universe whispered to him.  _ Godlings.  _

The God of creation had seen many beautiful things. He had created most of them and wielded immense power beneath his fingers, in his breath, but the two tiny companions, two tiny flames of life, they were the most beautiful creation yet. “Sons.” he whispered, in response “These are my sons.” 

The universe named them too, whispering into Phils’ ear as he carried them down from the mountain on which they had formed. Ɯ̵̣̿̌̕n̶̲̼̗͑͂ɹ̶̡̋̈́͂ǝ̶̛̞̫d̸̬̽s̵̗͇̞̑̈ǝ̸̻̀ʌ̸̬̰̲̐͒ it whispered and the son on his right, whose small wings were the shade of the sky at dusk, shifted slightly in his arms.ǝ̵̭̄̔̚ǘ̷͈̼̾̈́̏ɐ̸̡͓̰̘͍̎͝ɯ̵̙̈́̾̿̍̂ it dubbed the other, who had wings the color of the early morning sky. His sons. 

\--- 

The godlings grew up quickly, and though the god of creation had no frame of reference, it still felt far too fast. They were twins and so alike, yet different as morning and evening. They sometimes fought, but were never far from one another, like two planets orbiting each other. 

They gave him a new name. The tongue of the universe was difficult to master and their small forms could not quite get the sound of their own names right, let alone his. They named him Dad, or Creation. He called them, in return, Morning and Evening. 

They tumbled in the sky together, flying on shaky wings as their father watched them carefully, ready to catch them if they should fall. They played with and on all of their father’s creations, even those which no child, not even a godling should bother. Their father protected him and so the universe bestowed him a second title one night, as he watched his two godlings sleep. He did not require rest himself, and they would not one day when they were grown, but they were still so small. His heart swelled with emotion. The universe called it  _ love _ . And it called him  _ Protector _ . 

He was God of Creation and of Protection. He would protect his world and his sons. 

His sons too were gods in their own right. As they grew, their own powers manifested. The first time Evening used his powers, Creation nearly fell from the sky. Morning and Evening were playing on a plateau while he worked on his latest creation, a new tree, darker than any he’d created before and prettier. He was circling his creation from above when he heard a noise unlike anything in the world. Fear struck his heart, as he realized the loud noise was coming from Evening. He could see Morning staring at Evening with something like fear in his eyes. 

“Are you hurt, son?” Creation asked as he ran to his sons, ready to defend them from whatever harm could be near. 

“No?” Evening said, not even looking up from the handful of flowers he was placing for Creation “I was simply singing.” 

“Singing?” Creation asked, the word foreign on his lips. Morning had come to stand beside him and was frowning deeply. 

“The universe whispered it to me.” Evening explained plainly “She said that the noises in my head are called music- songs. I was just getting them out. I call it singing! They are so pretty! Listen!” 

Creation listened, this time, to the noise- the singing- of his son. And.. it was beautiful. IT sounded like the sky on a clear night with twinkling stars. It was not a cry of fear, it was an expression of joy. And still, Ceation found tears on his cheeks as Evening finished. “You have found your domain, my son,” he said, dropping to his knees. “You are the god of Music.” 

\--- 

Morning was not to be outdone by Evening and not even a week later, Creation’s other son came into his own. Creation as teaching them how to plant things, the slow way, the way his villagers did. His sons needed to know everything about the world that they would help him protect when he realized Morning’s crops were growing fast- far too fast, as Evening simply whispered to them. It was unlike when Creation Created, things simply springing into being, no the plants grew at his mere words. Evening stilled beside Creation, watching Morning’s power. 

Bounty, The Universe did not whisper this time, rather than spoke plainly to them, The God of Plenty.” 

“Morning!” Evening called, as he careened toward his brother “You’re the God of Bounty!” 

Creation smiled and there was joy in his heart as Evening began to sing in joy, as Morning fly laps around the plants he grew. His godlings were true gods now. 

Their powers only grew and each had some creation power, even outside of their individual domains. Creation allowed them to help him, now, as they designed new species. Creation was still striving to create a new species, more god-like than the villagers, but still mortal. A race that could truly enjoy what he had created- a race with a knack for their own creation. Morning had tried to help him and they had created another race, part villager, part pig. They were cunning, but with eyes only for gold, likely influenced by Morning’s power over precious metals, and little desire for real creation. And so they called them the Piglins and sent them to the nether to flourish. 

Evening tried to help him, once and together they created something that was too afraid of them to even look at them. It was too violent and not quite godlike enough. However, Creation did not believe in destroying races, so they were let free. And they were called Endermen. 

The Universe watched these trials. They could not succeed, not with what they had. They needed something more. The Universe would help. So the Universe waited again. When Creation spilled his blood again, they once again breathed against it and new life formed, like a flame sparking to life in the form of another tiny being. 

Morning and Evening were ecstatic when Creation came back, packing a tiny godling in his arms. They called him little brother. Creation called him son. The universe called him ö̴̜̫̦i̶̹͎͚̐́ꙅ̸̣̏̇͐u̴͖̝̎Ꮈ̴̪̠̙͒̎ᴎ̵̧͖͒̋̕o̴͉̟͗͊̂ɔ̴̨̖̍͜ . 

\--- 

It did not take long for the newest godling to come into his own. He was still flying on unsteady golden wings when he manifested. The little one was constantly into something, hiding Morning’s songbook or stealing Evening’s gold. He always managed to charm his way out, with an infectious smile and shrieking laugh. 

He stole things and put them back, pulled harmless pranks, and suggested creations that were nonsensical, even to Creation. He was in the middle of such a pitch, when the Universe spoke again, loud enough for all of them to hear. 

_ Chaos _ , The Universe decreed  _ The God of Chaos _ . 

“What does that mean?” the little one asked Evening. “What was that?” 

“That was the Universe, little brother.” Morning replied, picking the godling up with ease. He shrieked with laughter as Morning swung him up into the air. 

“The Universe has given you your power.” Evening explained patiently “You are Chaos.” 

And so Evening sang his joyful song as Morning tossed Chaos around, all laughing and shrieking. Creation found himself smiling too, heart overflowing.  _ Family _ , he decided. This was family. 

The universe hummed in approval. 

\--- 

It happened almost by accident, the creation of humans. 

Morning, Evening, and Creation were trying their hand at creating the ideals, as they called them, again. Each day, it seemed that Creation’s sons got stronger in their powers, especially as they matured toward full Godhood. They still required some sleep and food, though it seemed with every passing day they needed it less. Creation assumed that soon the oldest two would be full gods, like him and no longer require such things, as mortal creations like villagers did. Creation could not be sure, however, as he had come into the world a full god, ready to serve his purpose.

But, regardless, they were stronger now and perhaps that was all that was needed. They had created the form from clay, like every time before and this time both Morning and Evening had added a touch of their power, designing the traits they thought best. Chaos stood off to the side, under strict orders to keep his hands off. Creation inhaled deeply. It was time to breathe life. He began to exhale slowly, and then suddenly, there was a small hand on the newest creation, gold power sparking as Creation blew in life. 

“Chaos!” Morning shouted, “no!” 

But it was too late, the mortal beneath them was coming to life- Creation as too late to stop it if he wanted to. He could distantly hear Morning and Evening scolding Chaos for interrupting the process but Creation could only stare at what his family had created. The creation looked like they did, in part. Their body was mortal, so fragile, but Creation could see the spark inside of them. It was unlike the smolder of villagers or the swirling darkness of enderman, this was a real fire. 

_ Humanity _ , The universe whispered and Creation knew that they had succeeded. This was what they had been striving for. Humans. 

He let out a cry of joy and spun around, startling all his children. “We did it! My sons! We did it! That’s humanity!” 

“We did it? He heard Evening whisper, even as he began to smile “How?” 

“Chaos messed it up.” Morning agreed, looking confused

“Oh no!” Creation exclaimed, scooping Chaos, who looked both confused and excited, onto his shoulders “That was exactly what it needed! We did it, my sons! All of us!” 

Morning grinned and pulled Evening into a hug “We did it!” 

“Together.” Evening agreed, “We created that together!” 

Evening had a new song, that night as he watched over the first humans. Morning and creation drove off monsters, while Chaos slept wrapped in his own wings. The humans didn’t seem to quite understand the melody, but it mattered not. The song was still beautiful, as it welcomed in the news creations. He sang for the new creation and for the joy that abounded. 

They had created humanity and surely it would be beautiful

\--- 

Humanity was beautiful, for a time. They were so short-lived, like a flame burning out, yet so ferocious. Creation taught them how to build things, how to create, even without power like his. His hands guided theirs, especially in the first few generations. He taught them how to protect themselves against the mobs. 

Morning taught them how to grow food. He taught them how to hunt. He taught them how to mine for the best resources, to find the gold and diamonds that gleamed deep within the ground. 

Evening taught them about music, about the rise and fall of melodies, of words and stories. The joy and pain of the world, of love and life, the value of song and community. 

Chaos taught them joy. He taught them what it was to laugh, to think outside the box. He taught them how to expect the unexpected and the value of laughing at children. 

The first few thousand years, the gods worked alongside their people, helping them. Protecting them, even as the population expanded and humans spread all throughout Creation’s world. His heart swelled every time he flew over settlements, every time he saw a mortal babe, or a new invention. Creation required no offering, but that they kept creating. That they kept growing. Evening celebrated every new song and dance, every instrument they created, he mastered and played for them. Morning rejoiced in the harvest and the hall and took his offering in whatever they could spare. He still kept his first offering of potatoes and gold. Chaos would spend hours with the children, that he could still almost blend in with, and took his offerings in the sound of a busy street, children laughing, and trinkets that meant nothing at all. 

Humanity, for a time, was simply good. 

Then, it was not. Creation and his sons had started to pull back from humanity- letting them test their wings, per-se, as they continued their own adventures, together and apart, when humanity developed something called war. 

tHey had created towns and settlements long before and there had always been death, and even violence. But humanity detested it. They punished it. At least, until there was war. He came across war first in the desert. It was hot and the smell of blood was immense. Creation could not be sick, but he certainly wished he could as he surveyed the carnage that was taking place on the desert beneath him. He watched in horror as his humans used their creativity, their grift of creation, and turned it violent. He could not bear to watch it, he could not bear the violence between his people. They were not supposed to create like this! So, Creation drew the first weapon he crafted, which had only tasted blood for protection (and never the blood of humanity) and entered the fray. He emerged the only survivor. 

_ Death _ , The universe whispered to him, as he stared at the bloody field. You are the _ God of Death.  _

_ \-- _

Morning and Evening found war together, as they had done most things in life. However, when they stumbled upon the battle, Morning found himself drawn in, horrified and fascinated by the sight in front of him. He simply picked up a sword to see what it was like to kill, and his power sang like it was an offering. 

_ Blood _ , The Universe whispered to him as blood dripped from his hands.  _ You are the God of Blood and War  _

Morning could not stop the sword in his hands, as his power allied for more blood. The universe had given him a second title. 

Evening watched, horrified, as his twin was drawn into battle. He could not fight, could only watch in horror as the creations they’d worked so hard on killing each other. As Morning joined the fight. One human stumbled away from the fight, bleeding profusely, and collapsed right at Evening’s feet. 

He was simply crying, “Help me,” he begged, with slightly unseeing eyes He did not stop, even as Evening knelt down, reaching out, to give this human comfort. But, the moment Evening touched his face, the man screamed. Evening might have too because the man’s thoughts were twisting, death, war, violence, and horrible things that Evening would wish no man to see. 

When he pulled away the man was dead. 

_ Madness _ , The Universe whispered  _ You are the God of Madness. _

The twins sat on the field for hours, after Morning dragged himself back to Evening, covered in blood. They simply stared at the empty field as new power settled on their shoulders. 

\----

Chaos thought war was a game when he first stumbled upon it. His powers flared at the recognition of excitement and confusion- he fed off such things and joined with eagerness. It was only when he realized that his humans were dying, that this was not a game, but something far worse. His golden wings were splattered with blood and his white tunic was stained dark, as he stumbled away from the scene. 

When Creation asked him what happened, he could not look at his father. “I don’t know.” He said, even as his hands dropped blood. 

_ Lies _ , The Universe whispered,  _ You are the God of Lies _ . 

—- 

And so the gods pulled back from their creation. They did not fear them, no, they mourned the bright race they created and the violence that they wrought. They mourned the corruption of their greatest creation. 

They mourned the blood on their hands and the call of their new powers. It was hard to balance, the blood and bounty, the music and madness, creation and death. Chaos especially, found himself drawn to war after war, corruption after corruption, as his powers developed. Creation would simply hold his son as he cried over the things he had seen- over the children who were damaged, as his own domains warred. 

Morning would never explain why there was blood dripping from his pink wings on occasion, or why he was always so much more powerful after those days, sparks of power jumping between his fingers. Creation simply helped his son clean his feathers. 

Evening no longer touched mortals. Creation was sure he could know why if he simply asked, or simply looked, but he did not. The screams that echoed from the last village they had visited were answer enough. 

Creation himself found that he seemed to find death everywhere, now that it had begun. The worst was the wars- or the slaughters. Smoldering husks of villages, with no survivors. He buried them in stone, when he found them, unable to bear the sight of what once was. 

So, they watched from afar, building a home for themselves that was not quite in the overworld, but close. Humanity could not find it, as it was tucked somewhere between realms, only accessible through the spark of their godly powers, golden and glowing. They built a white hall, grand and beautiful, with rooms for music and laughter, and fighting, and creating, expanding until they simply had no use for further rooms. 

There, they continued to watch humanity. His sons still entered the overworld, sometimes, blessing those who exemplified their domains beautifully or cursing those who abused their power. 

Creation did not punish the evil with madness like Evening, he did not dominate battlefields where too much blood had been shed like Morning, he did not sew confusion and lies in the lives of those who deceived others, like Chaos. Rather, he simply continued to create. Continued to heal. Continued to protect where he could, and when he could not, he simply moved on. He only brought death himself, when the mortals did not deserve the fate of falling into his son’s hands. Perhaps that was just mercy. 

However, it was tiring, for all of them, especially as humanity expanded rapidly, into the almost infinite world Creation had made. Many of them no longer believed in the gods, since they rarely showed themselves to mortals. 

The family of gods grew tired. It was tiring, watching a people that they loved- that they created, destroy itself, especially since many of them no longer remembered the gods that gave them life anyway. 

And then there were the false gods. Each of them, even Creation, had destroyed a false god, who claimed power that they did not have, nor understand. Creation did not enjoy the task. He mourned each one, as most of them had been descendants of his first blessed, with more power of creation than the average mortal. Admins could, to an extent Create within the small parts of the world that the Universe had tied them to at birth. Some of them believed that meant they were gods. Creation was usually the merciful god, belaying the rage of his sons, but somethings could not be forgiven. 

Those were the bad times. Good ones still shone through, in Chaos blessing a village with the give of joy, of their children a safe childhood. Morning blessing a city with plenty of crops to eat and enough resources to prevent a war. Evening blessing a musician or drawing madness out of those who did not deserve it. There were still sunsets and stars. There were still new creations, designed by his sons and brought to life by Creation. 

But they tired of the ache of power. They grew restless. The Universe watched, as they grew apathetic. 

The Universe mourned for its gods. The Universe mourned for humanity. The Universe loved them both dearly. 

Creation saw this too, in himself and in his sons. He found it unacceptable. 

In his timeless existence, he had never hidden a thing from the universe. It was never needed. But, he shielded himself as he gathered his sons. 

“I have an idea.” Creation said, and he could feel the Universe’s confusion- it was looking for them. “We are all tired. We no longer understand humanity. We need to rejoin them.” 

“How?” Morning asked, growing “They do not believe in gods any longer- they would likely not welcome us in even if they did. They fear our power too much.” 

“They hate the unknown.” Evening agreed, with a note of bitterness that made Creation’s heart ache. “They hate us, even if they do not know it.” 

“We will not rejoin them as gods.” Creation said. “We will join them as mortals.” 

“Mortals?” Evening asked, reeling back. “You aren’t-” 

“We are gods, Dad.” Morning interrupted,picking up where his twin left off. “We cannot be mortals. They know. They will always know. We cannot hide that from them.” 

“No,” Creation said “But we can tuck our powers away. We can become mortals for a time. The length of a normal mortal life, then we will return to our true forms once our mortal bodies die.” 

There was silence. “I think it sounds like fun.” Chaos, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up, and he grinned “I mean, we get to be human, for a little while, then be ourselves again. And I don;t know about you guys, but I’m not getting any urgent prayers or summons these days. I think it would be fun! I’m in.” 

“Would we be together?” Morning asked after a moment of hesitation “Or..” 

“I do not know.” Creation answered honestly “I would hope together, but I cannot guarantee it.” 

“Let’s do it.” Evening siad, suddenly, and Creation was surprised. Evening loved the palace and his power. “I… I do not understand humanity. I wish to. Morning has voiced the same thoughts to me. Besides, humans create the best music. I wish to see it as they do.” 

They all turned to Morning, who finally nodded “I...I am not certain, but I will follow you three. I will not remain here alone. Perhaps if we understand humanity…” 

Perhaps they could fix things. Perhaps they could walk amongst their people as they did millennia ago. He could feel the universe grow more urgent. If they were to do this, they would have to do it before the Universe could stop them. 

And so, the family of gods took hands, and one by one, they fell from their home in the Inbetween, toward the mortal plane. 

The Universe screamed, too late to stop the fall of its gods. 

**Author's Note:**

> To clear up any confusion here is this chart. They also have smaller domains that I didn't really work into the lore so I'm including it here, so you aren't confused if I bring it up later. 
> 
> Phil=Creation, aka God of Creation, Protection, Death, and Family  
> Wilbur= Evening, aka God of Music, Madness, Love, and the Seasons.  
> Technoblade= Morning, aka God of Bounty, Bloodshed, War, and Logic  
> Tommy= Chaos, aka God of Chaos, Lies, Childhood, and Loyalty.
> 
> Also please comment if you have something to say comments literally make my day. I will love you even if you don't tho. I hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
